


Nilmo

by an_evasive_author



Series: House of Ñolofinwë [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_evasive_author/pseuds/an_evasive_author
Summary: The world is a terribly large place for one so small as Findekáno. Not that he seems to mind all that much, but Anairë surely does.He is their first child and consequently everything that happens is new and strange and perhaps frightening.Why, simply going outside, in the relative safety of the gardens, seems a daunting task. Simply imagine the things that could go wrong...Luckily, there comes support from experienced sources and friends from unlikely places.
Relationships: Anairë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Series: House of Ñolofinwë [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633537
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	Nilmo

Routine had inevitably and permanently changed. Not that this knowledge came as a surprise to anyone, really. But nothing drove the truth of this home quite like having a child demanding attention at all times, no matter the given circumstances.

There was work? No matter. Sleep? Not if Findekáno had anything to say about that.

If Findekáno was upset, there would either be immediate comfort or endless, angry yelling.

Watching her tiny son grow ever so gradually less tiny was as much a joy as it was an endless source of... well, Anairë hesitated to call it _sadness._ But to feel as if time slipped through her fingers which was as melodramatic an assessment as it was frightening to consider...

And he was outgrowing his little, and utterly lovely, clothes. She could hardly squeeze her poor dear into ill-fitting garments, no matter how adorable the embroideries were.

The only thing that soothed her was the fact that she could change his wardrobe so frequently and that was one of the few true upsides of having someone who could both not do much more than complain at being dressed in what suited Anairë's taste best and being able to do so with a perfectly legitimate excuse.

For Findekáno grew at a rate measurable in single years still and that was as perfect an opportunity as there would ever be.

Finno stared at her, with the open puzzlement of a small child that was not yet entirely certain about any of the things life presented him with. His nostrils flared and he kicked about when Anairë tickled him, but there was no laughter yet. There was something very close to it but to wave it ever out of her reach was nearly as bad as having no reaction to her efforts at all.

So close. But not yet. Anairë made a sound of not quite frustration and stroked Findekáno's head.

“Everything alright, love?” Nolofinwe asked as he stepped from behind the dressing screen. Nearly presentable, though hair not yet tamed nor braided. It was not a bad look.

“He makes me work for his merriment,” she said and noted how Findekáno's lips quirked, opened and closed again in something so closely approaching a laugh, a chuckle, _anything_. Oh, but he would not surrender his first laugh so easily.

Anairë leaned closer, bowed over her son who looked bemused up at his mother. He kicked about and once more he burbled, perfectly content with that.

“I am submitting to your demands,” she offered but it was horribly difficult to remain serious when Finno gnawed on his own feet.“Whatever it is you want; Just laugh. Just the one, _please_?”

“Love, you are obsessing,” Nolofinwe said and when Anairë whirled about to consider him with a withering glare, he shrugged. “Care for tea? I still have time left.”

Anairë sighed and gathered up Findekáno who made noises of utter contentment, unaware of the power he held over his mother. Instead he flailed about a little, found this not to his liking and demanded to be held by his father before trying again.

 _Now_ the arm-flapping and squirming could be properly engaged and Findekáno wasted not a single moment to do just that.

Nolofinwe raised his cup higher so there would be no accidental spillage, on arm slung around Finno for safety. “Must I worry about the things you shall be doing while I am gone?”

“Honestly, Nolofinwe,” Anairë admonished and hid her blush in her cup. “You are exaggerating, it was not _that_ bad.”

“Of course not,” Nolofinwe smiled mildly and pried, or at least attempted to pry, Findekáno's little fingers from his collar. Findekáno's appreciation at the shiny, jingly temptation hanging around his father's neck was more than sincere,yet he was also rather heavy.

Anairë stood, lend a hand and carried the by then mewling Findekáno away. A toy in lieu of shiny jewellery would soothe him and Anairë made to search for something that would appease him. His stuffed cloud peaked from the crib, welcoming and appealing.

“And if you must know,” Anairë said, seamlessly continuing the conversation before Finno had started to grab for pretty things. “ _We_ are going out later.”

“Oh?” Nolofinwe asked and while reaching for the teapot, “Out into the wide, wide world? Is he ready for such adventuring?”

“We shall find out. But I worry less about him and more about--” Oh, she had stepped right into that one. Why, Nolofinwe would give her that look of smug satisfaction about being right.

“About?”

“... _You!_ ” she blurted and Findekáno made another one of his half-gurgled almost snorts that could have nearly been laughter. So very nearly. “You,” she said, this time sounding as if she had truly thought about it before blundering hastily for an answer.

“I survived worse than open court,” Nolofinwe smiled, though his ears wiggled bewildered.

He hated court and hated the chaos it brought. That was no secret. But to have it brought up so suddenly, that certainly surprised. He sipped his tea and looked musingly into the distance for a while.

But it was enough to suite as convenient excuse.

Distracted, Nolofinwe did indeed not point out that the thought of bringing their little son out into the world, away from walls and ceilings and undeniable safety was an endless source of stress for Anairë. A fact she had not been shy lamenting about.

Instead he poured tea and smiled when Findekáno gave a muffled warble as he chewed on his toy.

* * *

Nolofinwe had to leave, no matter how much he tried to delay the inevitable insanity that would follow, and after he had kissed his wife and once more pried Findekáno's fingers from his collar to much shrieking dismay and waved arms, he was gone.

Anairë and Findekáno lingered behind for a little while, not that Findekáno would have had any means of leaving on his own in any case. But perched comfortably as he was, there was no reason to complain. Instead he yawned and made to chew at his fingers with still toothless gums.

Certainly, he would have been perfectly content with gnawing on his stuffed toys until lunch. Oh, but instead he had absolutely no idea what adventures awaited him.

Neither did Anairë, now that she thought about it.

Conflicted, the desire to chew her lip in thought was both tempting as it was brutish, she looked down at her cooing child and then to the already piled necessities she had planned to take.

Well, not all by _herself_ , that was what the servants were for. But it had been she who had drawn up the list and directed the efforts. And she had packed the most important thing, the picnic basket, herself.

* * *

It was hard to miss Nerdanel with her red hair in such striking contrast to the lush greenery all around. Nelyafinwe, too, was much like a little ember and the golden light made them look as if crowned with embers.

Findekáno could not quite appreciate sights like that of his aunt and cousins just yet and instead stared upwards, hands brought close to his face and feet endlessly kicking in some manner of rhythm only he perceived.

Anairë found herself exuberantly greeted by her nephew before Nerdanel had even reached them.

Macalaurë cared not for any sort of frantic movement, no matter if his aunt was being -however lovingly- mauled by his brother. So there would be no running nor shouting, for Macalaurë would have no trouble yelling louder in response.

No one but Fëanáro ever made the, frankly, meaningless distinction between half and full-blooded relatives and so it was that Nelyafinwe greeted his aunt and his cousin who was busy trying to squirm about, before plopping down on the blanket.

Nelyafinwe spread out strategically, which meant strewing his toys about to claim as much space as possible with the absolute greatest risk of stepping onto something. A crumbled page, half-coloured before he had been dragged outside, was procured and Nelyo placed it on a thin book for a proper surface before kicking his feet and continuing his masterwork.

“Did you wait long?” With a sigh to shake the heavens, she threw down her bags, “I did not think we would manage to leave in this decade still but lo, here we are.” Nerdanel said. embraced her sister-in-law and placed Macalaurë next to his brother.

Still swaddled and dozing off again, there would not be any grand adventures for a little while.

Macalaurë mewled something, face pinched and eyes screwed close tightly. Nelyo, without looking up from his picture, pulled his little brother close and nuzzled him before continuing his work. His chin rested on Macalaurë like a pillow, not that Macalaurë seemed to mind it any.

Nerdanel went through the basket, rifling between whatever might have been hidden in there. “I am _almost_ certain I brought everything--” Rotating her shoulders, she cracked her back, “How _strange_ it feels to carry barely anything. We are down to a system, you know?”

Anairë smiled and pretended not to care too greatly about the way Nerdanel looked past her and the luggage piled behind her. She had not carried it herself, yet the load still looked excessive. But it was always better to be overburdened than to suddenly find out that she had forgotten something crucial.

“I can help you sort out the essentials,” Nerdanel offered. Having now two children had to come with at least _some_ benefits. Knowing just which things to leave behind was one of them. Unrelated but also nice was the ability to tell her sister-in-law that she was acting ridiculous.

“Why, those _are_ the essentials. And it is not as if I neglected anything in favour of those; I brought refreshments, this picnic blanket and Findekáno, what more would you ever want from me?” Anairë asked and helped herself to some of the fruit. “Better to have it with me then having an emergency.”

“He is not made from glass, he wont simply break apart because you did not take _every_ nappy in the kingdom with you,” Nerdanel said. At Findekáno she smiled and tickled his cheek which was met with the blowing of many an elated raspberry. “He's old enough to venture outside a little. And, more importantly, he still stays where he is.”

Something that could not be said for Macalaurë who had started to fuss about and had been released by his brother. So unleashed, invigorated by his nap, there was now no stopping without threat of loud and angry screeching.

Now he crawled about, undisputed king of the picnic blanket, surveying his domain and already casting his sight to lands beyond his realm. Why, what wonders, what delights dwelled yonder? Bugs? Flowers? He would find out.

Away he went, past his cousin and his brother, from his mother who would hold him back.

Findekáno watched his cousin in turn and it was easy to see the amazement in his wide eyes as Macalaurë streaked past him, having held no interest in that boring creature lying on the blanket, he paid Findekáno no mind, safe perhaps a snort of disdain.

Findekáno's time outside, so far, had been rather overwhelming, no doubt. His mind, his tiny little world, had expanded and suddenly there was so much more than warmth and food and cuddling. Not that he did not want for those, if the supply on any of these should cease, the screaming and crying would be endless.

But there was now suddenly _more_ than that _._

Why, just a little while ago, there had been grass which he had pulled out in handfuls and would have eaten with the same gusto had the strange smelling blades not been taken away again.

But now there were others, strangers, and he had been confined to his spot while the others took no notice of him. Neither Macalaurë nor Nelyafinwe took all that great an interest in him, with Nelyo wholly consumed by his picture book. The drawing had been folded together and slipped between the pages so nothing could be stolen away by gusts of wind.

The contrast to slightly older Macalaurë was plainly visible; Macalaurë's hair was already beginning to poke through his dark fuzz, sleek and silky, like the plumage of a raven, hinting at the black wealth that would in time adorn him. He was no longer an infant and instead he now crawled about, flaunting his pretty hair and his newfound mobility.

Findekáno with his own smattering of dark fluffy fuzz not unlike a puff of cloud, was not yet quite as majestic nor as mobile.

“Not yet,” Anairë agreed when she watched her son lie there peacefully. “Tea?”

“Please.”

* * *

Compared to Findekáno who could do little more than flop about a little, Macalaurë moved with the fluid grace of a deer striding along unseen forest paths.

How terribly unfair, Findekáno wished to do the same... He was left to wriggle and squirm and wish desperately to be able to move about too.

Alas he could not even turn around and so he was left gaping and gawping after his scuttling cousin who had conquered the blanket and would only brave ever more daunting challenges. Indeed, already his sights had fallen on the grass daunting him just beyond the edge.

Distressed, eyes wet and glossy, Findekáno mewled for help, for anyone to come and comfort him. There was no outright wiggling and kicking, for such efforts worked best when one was on their back. But there would be, practicality be damned, if no one would come and ease the terrible feeling of inferiority _right now_.

Before the lamentations could escalate into true yowling bawls, Findekáno was indeed picked up. Wide grey eyes fell upon a stranger, russet glow framing him, overtaking most of Findekáno's vision.

“No crying,” came the voice and Findekáno did not understand a single word. But the tone was gentle and soothing, that he could understand. And copper all encompassing was so very pretty too.

What an appealing colour, even more so from up close. Findekáno outstretched his tiny hands and grabbed some of that strange, shiny red to stuff into his mouth to show his appreciation.

Something so pretty simply begged to be munched on with toothless gums. All sorrow forgotten, Findekáno stared upwards. Everything in his vision shifted in a most dazzling display of colour and light. Gold and red, all swirled and pretty.

Findekáno, utterly enchanted, stretched out his hands again to swat for this strangeness above him once more.

* * *

“You wouldn't happen to rent him out, would you?” Anairë asked when Nelyafinwe had retrieved a fast fleeing Macalaurë before comforting his little cousin without prodding nor complaint.

“Never,” Nerdanel replied from where they both sat and watched. “No one gets Macalaurë to go to sleep so well.”

“Oh, I would not need him for that,” Anairë waved off, “We have that covered; Nolofinwe and Finno take naps together, you should see them. But no, just look how sweet they look together. Let me have something to swoon over.”

“Swoon over your own, I need him for myself.”

“But they could be friends,” Anairë said.

Nelyo meanwhile, still being gummed on, had soothed his weeping cousin and pulled his little brother back towards himself so Macalaurë would not tumble off the blanket. Angry complaints from Macalaurë who ranted and grumbled in the way of a baby most displeased, before seeing his brother busy with another. That halted all grumbling and Macalaurë, silenced by the sheer indignation, snorted about.

Why, that would not do; It was _his_ brother. _His_! He swerved away from the edge of the blanket, away from tempting things to eat just in reach and crawled with all the caterpillar speed he was given. Such fury would be unleashed for daring to steal Nelyo away.

Nelyo, once reached, merely scooped him up and sat him into his lap with the long practised ease of a doting sibling who knew what they were doing through endless repetition.

Macalaurë, startled but ultimately satisfied, squeaked once and sat still, basking in his victory. There, that would show this interloper. Satisfied and having already forgotten about the wondrous things one could stick into one's mouth, Macalaurë looked around. Until a time came that he would once more be bored.

Both mothers looked on and Nerdanel most of all was glad for the peace that had now finally settled in. Anairë, too, had composed herself, no longer fretting about Findekáno's first ever outing. It was rather hard to imagine dangers and perils when Findekáno was so plainly content.

“Stars above...,” Anairë said and sounded only a little wavering. Both she and Nerdanel sighed fondly at the little pile sitting there so peacefully. “It will be good for them; Kindling friendship. And if not that, at _least_ mutual respect. You can't count on Fëanáro to foster good connections between us, now can you?”

Nerdanel rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I suppose I cannot.” And the fact that Fëanáro made it, however much unintentionally hard to have parents visit and allow Nelyo to have friends. Why, she could hardly _force_ anyone to stay while Fëanáro set something on fire in the back room. Such was the life she had chosen the moment she had accepted Fëanáro's ring.

Anairë, though shielded from the truest insanity that went on when the servants had been shooed out and the doors had been closed, had somewhat of an idea and most certainly some kind of tolerance to frequent bouts of explosions and casual gouts of flame.

It made venting to her a little easier. Though no one could ever compare to Indis and her unflappable acceptance of all things that were and the therefore resulting madness.

A friend who would not sneer at these prospects...That could be invaluable. And Nerdanel wished so dearly for Nelyo to have friends...

Findekáno blinked contently, gnawing uselessly at Nelyo's red locks. Nelyo playfully scolded him and pulled his hair away before cuddling both elves sitting with him. How sweet they looked, really.

“Fine,” Nerdanel said and hummed, still gazing at them, “ _Fine_ , ask him. But I demand detailed reports on what I miss.”

“They shall be such adorable friends,” Anairë said and turned to her nephew to ply him with offers. Such an opportunity could not be wasted.

* * *

Nolofinwe opened the door for them, Findekáno's enthusiasm had been audible from the hallway, and when his son nearly flailed out of Anairë's grip in a desperate attempt to reach him, he took him into his own arms.

“Why, I take it you had a productive outing?” he asked when they fell on the settee.

“You could say that,” Anairë said. “Before I forget; I know not yet when, but you can expect Nelyafinwe to visit sometime in the near future.”

“And exactly how did _that_ come to pass?” One needed to be careful about that one. Much like Arafinwe, it stood to reason that there would be greater attention paid to Findekáno while these two were around him.

“Why, I bargained for him with Nerdanel,” Anairë said and Findekáno was set loose on his father who grabbed him eagerly.

“She did? Well,” Nolofinwe shrugged and waggled his hands around. Findekáno grabbed for them and then would not let go. “Now we now where Nelyo has it from, I suppose.”  
  
“How rude,” Anairë scolded mildly and nudged her husband who made exaggerated grimaces.

Findekáno stared wide-eyed at his father and burbled amused. He bounced happily about which was far easier, now that someone was holding him up.

“You should have seen them, all three of them.” Thoughtfully, “Where are all the painters and artists when I need them most? They looked so adorable and no one in sight to capture the moment. Should we have a portrait made, do you think?”

“He is a little too wriggly for a portrait, wouldn't you say?” Nolofinwe asked and Findekáno indeed did prove his outstanding squirminess by giving a most dedicated presentation of his wriggles. It was his greatest talent and he used any chance to show off. “A few sketches perhaps. But not a full painting. Much to active, this one.”

Nolofinwe smiled a playful little smile and held his writhing son steady so there would be no unplanned tumble off the sofa. “Why,” he said and the noise did, if anything, increase Finno's exuberance, “Such a wiggly worm indeed. Squirmy wormlets have no business on the royal portrait. They should be out in the flowerbeds.”

“Do not liken my son to such slimy, filthy things, Nolofinwe!” Anairë called indignant and snatched Finno up, out of the reach of curs who would wilfully confuse her little Finno with filth.

“I was not,” Nolofinwe tried to defend himself but Anairë would not have any of it.

Findekáno looked with wide, googly eyes between his parents. And then, quite suddenly and without warning, he laughed.

* * *

They moved to the carpet, Finno in between them. The sudden giggling had surprised them both so, there was now no possible way of bickering with one another. Well, no matter, it had been rather silly in the first place.

A lady knew when to admit such things, even if it was only quietly to herself.

“I should have called him a squirmy worm far earlier, had I known this would be the result,” Nolofinwe said and sounded very pleased with the state of things. The fact that he was smiling so very smugly was redundant at this point.

“It was not! Do not dare,” Anairë said with her head resting on his shoulder as they watched their tiny son amuse himself. The sound was so new and strange, both elves had their ears carefully turned towards Finno to miss none of it.

Findekáno had been in in high spirits. The fantastic time he had had so far and his own laughter contributed to that. Filled to the very brim with joy and vigour, he simply had to get some of that newfound silliness out in a productive manner.

He fell over, which was not planned, and kicked his feet which was also not planned but very much welcomed regardless. It felt nice to swing and kick about, to move, however little this might have been.

“Why, such a--”

“If you say it one more time, Valar _help_ me, Nolofinwe!”

“Very well,” Nolofinwe said instead and scooted closer to his wife. “I shall find my fun elsewhere then.”

“What does--?” Anairë did not get much further into her question for that cad Nolofinwe was suddenly upon her and tickled her sides. “You dare!”

“I do!” Nolofinwe called back and was aware that Finno had started guffawing again, no doubt delighted by his parents being silly together.

When Nolofinwe turned his head and just before Anairë brought both her hands up to exact vengeance, he could see his tiny son trying to clap with uncoordinated efforts, merely swinging his arms about.

And then he saw not much else, for Anairë “A lady does not use this word, Nolofinwe” pounced.

They rolled about and Nolofinwe was caught. Because a lady did not start fights, oh no. But she knew how to _finish_ them and Nolofinwe had chosen ill by trying to best her. Not that he tried all that hard to begin with.

They rolled over, safely away from the little watcher who shrieked in delight at their antics.

“I yield,” Nolofinwe offered and smiled amicably when he was bested. There was no opportunity to weasel and worm and so he could only offer up his own defeat.

“I do not care for your surrender,” Anairë replied, for there was still proper penance to be dished out. Nolofinwe knew himself to be doomed.

A lady did not start fights nor did she pounce like a cat onto her poor, hapless husband. But to continue what had been a perfectly fine tussle with one's dastardly husband, that was most certainly not in either of these categories.

* * *

“I am willing to submit my terms,” Anairë said when it was over and Nolofinwe lay defeated on the carpet.

He had gathered Finno and held him pressed against his chest, both because Finno loved to be held so close and perhaps to use him as a shield against his wife.

His wonderful wife who was perched on him, the train of her dress fawned out behind her like the proud tail of a peacock.

Finno warbled happily, his hands reaching towards his mother. He was not the one at her mercy and so he could beg for proper cuddles without the shame of having been utterly and truly subjugated.

Anairë giggled, secure in her victory, and leaned closer, for Finno had charmed her and she could hardly help herself.

“Demand away,” Nolofinwe conceded. His braid had come undone during a desperate try to feign escape through the middle. What exactly would have been the real plan, he had not been certain. Foiled either way, his hair was now freely fawned out over the carpet.

And though he had no infant fuzz to speak of, in this moment he and Finno looked quite alike, stacked on top of one another as they were. How sweet, Anairë could barely stand the tightness in her chest, so encompassing and warm her love for them was. She leaned in to kiss them both while Finno squealed happily and grabbed for her hair.


End file.
